Wednesday, October 14, 2009

My strongest memory of my mother

I think I always knew there was something wrong with my mother.  I look back and the strongest memory that I have of her is her yelling at me and telling me I was going to hell and that god would never forgive me for what I had done.  If I remember right I said the word "g*dDammit" I am sure this is also where my love/hate relationship with "the all powerful being" began.  Recently I found out I had learned that lovely phrase from my Papa Ray (grandfather - her dad).

I don't know if it is normal to have dreams like I grew up with but they started young.  I would have to ask my dad how old I was when we lived with my Grandpa Val but I know I had them then.  I used to dream that like Hansel & Gretel she wanted to cook us children for dinner.  I would dream that she was chasing after my brother, sister, and I with butcher knives and as the oldest it was my job to protect them.  There were many variations on the dreams but the main theme in each one was that she was trying to kill us.

After talking to one of my grandmothers and one of my aunts who both said that they thought about trying to get custody of the three of us kids several times (and never did anything about it) I have to wonder about some things. 

One: Since schizophrenia manifests as a teenager or young adult, how many of these dreams that I had were based on a child's interpretation of actual events? (She was undiagnosed until around the time I was 14.)

Two: Was what she was feeling similar to these women that actually do kill all of their children? (Susan Eubanks, Andrea Yates)

Three:  If that is the case what stopped/interrupted her?

I do know that my entire life I felt (knew) that my mother resented my very existence.  With that being so it is no wonder that we were never close.

My own daughter and I have our issues, mostly stemming from me being a single mother and trying to raise her to be more self-confident than I ever was.  That and my own health issues.  Even though mine is a disease of the brain it affects my health not my mind.  That hasn't stopped her writing her own paper about how my disease has ruined her life.

Since the purpose of this blog is for my English 102 class and I am supposed to intelligently ramble about my subject that is what I am working towards.

At this point my research is on: Does chronic illness have to destroy a family?  If you have a positive story about how it actually pulled a family closer together I would love to read it.

I really should have stayed in the Land of Nod just a little longer but since I woke up early I thought I would put the time to good use.  Now to get the teenager out the door for school...

6 comments:

  1. I look back at my childhood and find many things that I could bring to my mother's attention as just plain wrong. My mother had no disease but she tried very hard not to be a parent. Don't misunderstand, we always had a roof over our head and food on the table, mom was just rarely around to cook it. My parents divorced when I was 11 and that seem to give my mom the freedom to live the life of a single woman.

    I know that my childhood doesn't compare to someone who had a mom with a mental illness but know this, I didn't understand my moms behavior anymore then you didn't understand your mom's behavior.

    We as parents are given the chance to be a better parent. Your daughter may not understand your behavior at times but remain strong in your relationship and enjoy being a mom.

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  2. This is a very interesting topic! I don’t know very much about the effects of chronic illnesses on family bonds, but my friend’s mother is bipolar. I found that she often felt very confused about the actions of her mother and often questioned whether or not her mother ever loved her. This would be an instance where this illness destroyed family bonds. However I did just finish this book called “Firefly Lane” and it is about a mother who is diagnosed with breast cancer and this greatly affects her relationship with her daughter, but in a positive way. Before the diagnosis, the mother and daughter were always fighting as a result of teenage behavior, and they rarely ever got along. The daughter would run away from home because she refused to see her mother’s point of view and only felt that her mother was overprotective. After the diagnosis the daughter apologized to her mother and became very close to her. This would be an example of how a chronic illness had a positive effect on a family.

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  3. @OrangeRock
    One of the things I find interesting is that even though there is brother is only four years younger than I we actually have different memories of the same time period.

    He actually grew closer to religion due to my mother while her beliefs and actions pushed me further away from it.

    I am really hoping that my daughter and I will have a better relationship in the long run (than my mother and I did) but sometimes the trials of living with a hormonal teenager make me doubt that.

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  4. @Ashley

    I think BiPolar might actually be even harder than Schizophrenia. With the BiPolar you have extreme mood swings. Manically happy to seriously depressed. I don't know much about most mental illnesses because I really did spend the last 20 years of my life ignoring them. I wish that I hadn't and could have gotten to know my mother better as an adult rather than a teenager.

    "Firefly Lane" looks like it might be an interesting read. If it was non-fiction I would read it for this paper. I will definitely put it in my to read list for Christmas Break though.

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  5. My first thought when reading this is: Most people are doing the very best that they can with what they know and have at that moment. That is something I try to remind myself of, which helps me (most times, anyway)to forgive most oversites, slights, and personal/not so personal offenses of various degrees. But I do have to remind myself, and I know that might not be the case in every situation. I don't know why...but that really was my first thought after I read your post.

    I find it most interesting that you and J saw things from a very different perspective and took away with you very different memories of childhood that lead you to lean on different beliefs, etc. And yes, that is something I picked up on awhile ago. That's all well and good and is something I can relate to, as just one generation before yours, things appeared one way to me, another way to others.
    Everyone is most certainly an individual. It's amazing how we take and give so differently, don't you think?

    I have a dear friend who often reminds me, even in the most dire or difficult situations, and sometimes I just hate hearing it! She tells me "Everything is just as it should be, right now, right here." And of course, sometimes I have a REALLY hard time believing that. But sometimes, you know, sometimes I think she just might be right. We don't live in a perfect world, but sometimes the bitter sweet and the sweet come awful close.

    As we know all to well, watching a life come to an end is difficult. Actually, it's much more than difficult. It often causes all sorts of changes and disturbances in our lives as we see things fade away, come to an end, and change the dynamics of a long standing circle. But the disruptions have a way of shaking me awake. It has caused me to evaluate my own life; to take an inventory of what I am, what I do, and who I chose to hold close to me. It has caused me to become more sentimental. I think I understand why old people are so darn sappy and emotional! They know so much. They've been through much the same kind of thing over and over again. And yet they still have a smile on their face and forgive and forget so much more easily than younger people. It's amazing to me and something I truely admire. I think it's called "Wisdom".

    I have a verse from Max Ehrmann on my wall that I read often that sums it up for me.
    When I'm done weeding the front yard and getting as much fresh air as I can for the day...I'll scribble it out.
    Much love.
    Auntie

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  6. @ Annonymous....

    Thank you Aunt Annonymous. Your thoughts and the Max Ehrmann poem are both appreciated.

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